Secrets (33 page)

A glass of wine is put into her hand and, a sip or two later, she feels able to focus. Laura has come – brilliant. And there are the mums from toddler group. That
has
to be Lisa's sister. Oh my! She's even roped in the lovely young waitresses from Camwell's. And isn't that the lady from Chocolini's? Bloody hell – there must be at least twenty people here!

And Lisa's husband, who has just popped his head round the door, catches Tess's eye, gives her a wink and the thumbs-up.

‘OK, girls,’ Lisa announces whilst bashing a teaspoon against her wineglass. ‘Some of you know her, some of you don't – but you've probably all seen her around. So this is Tess and she brings her skills to Saltburn from London where she worked in a top salon.’

Lisa knows Tess will be cringing. Tess is actually more than cringing; she's concerned that Lisa's gross distortion of the truth will have some horrible karmic backlash. So much so, that she is actively shaking her head at the gathered women – all of whom simply laugh and raise their glasses.

‘Also tonight, Tess has brought with her some amazing creams and lotions. They're exclusive and the edition is very limited – once it's gone, it's gone. So stock up, girls.’

Tess thinks, Lisa you're wasted here – with your skill for spin and your ability to make bullshit smell so sweet, you should work in politics.

‘Aren't they?’ Lisa is talking at her.

‘Sorry?’

‘The creams – they're from organic ingredients.’

‘Yes, they are paraben free, hypoallergenic,’ says Tess and she can't do anything about her voice, which has the aural equivalent of a rabbit caught in headlights. But then she glimpses Laura engrossed in one of the tubes that is being circulated and suddenly her voice is so confident it could see her to a job on a shopping channel. ‘Rosehip is a powerful cell regenerator. It's excellent for softening wrinkles and treating scars or stretchmarks. Calendula – the posh term for marigold – is a wonderful soothing multipurpose ingredient. Great for babies’ bums. I chose Tunisian neroli rather than French because it is cultivated and harvested with no agro-chemicals. Neroli is the essential oil from the bitter orange tree and for centuries it has been used for its powerful anti-depressant, balancing, sedative qualities. Its fragrance is divine. Eucalyptus is famed for being antiseptic, clearing, stimulating. Geranium is brilliantly soothing and balancing. Moroccan rose is similarly soothing but also uplifting. Open it!’ she tells a lady she recognizes but can't place who is examining a tube of All Over You body cream. The woman twists off the cap and squeezes a little cream onto her hands. She coos and offers her skin for the others to smell. The murmurs of appreciation and the clamour to sniff and dab and try, allows Lisa and Tess to grin at each other and chink glasses.

By the end of the evening – and it's way past eleven when the last guest has left – Tess has shaped three pairs of eyebrows, given everyone either a mini hand or foot massage, advised one lady about the best way to deal with milia, painted Lisa's toenails and forbidden everyone in the room from shaving against the hair growth or using their husband's blades. By the end of the evening, there's only enough of her creams to fill one box half full. Lisa set the prices before Tess had a chance to say, don't! you can't charge that – it's fraudulent! But Lisa said, shut up, Tess – you don't know what you're talking about. And now, with the counting over the three-figure mark, Tess concedes to herself that a little bullshit goes a long, long way and that next time Lisa tells her to shut up, she won't question why. She feels almost flush – two months’ wages, tonight's unexpected windfall, the vouchers from Tamsin. She can manage the next few weeks quite well and it is a great concept.

‘You must take a cut,’ says Tess, peeling off two twenty-pound notes.

‘Don't you bloody dare,’ says Lisa and actually, she looks grossly offended.

‘But Lisa –’ Tess pauses. If she released her lips from the pressure of her bite, she could have a good old sob. ‘Why have you done all this – for
me
?’

‘Exactly,’ says Lisa, ‘– for
you
. Don't you go getting teary, pet. Just take your cash and your stash and bugger off home. I'll see you tomorrow – playground, ten-ish?’

‘But Lisa –’ But Tess sees that Lisa's eyes are a little watery and she knows it's not the wine because she knows by now, that wine doesn't have that effect on Lisa's eyes. It just makes her even more noisy.

‘Well, thank you – thank you so much.’ And Tess hands Lisa one of everything. Helping Hand handcream with cocoa butter. Face It facial oil with neroli and rosehip. All Over You body cream. Smooch lip balm.

‘Thank you very much,’ says Lisa and for a minute or two, the women try and out-thank each other until Lisa's husband says, girls, girls, it really is time to take Tess and Em home.

Chapter Thirty

The vouchers from Tamsin arrived the following morning. Tess kept saying, are you sure you'll be OK, Wolf, but this was for her own peace of mind really. Once in a while, each day, Tess felt compelled to hear her voice, employing a tone that was grown-up and conversational, because though she no longer felt lonely sharing the house with a dog and a small child, there were times when she could feel cut off. Most days, though, there was someone to meet or a group to go to but still the big house on the hill could seem so self-contained from the community at large that Tess could feel quite isolated. Of course, she would not entertain such an emotion as being negative; instead, she'd speak conversationally to the dog or the child never yearning a reply but just to hear her normal voice. Em was still of the age at which a sing-song voice was most appropriate and Wolf – well, Wolf was a dog. A lumbering, limping old thing at that, who frequently got under Tess's feet but answered her frustration with big doleful eyes, gruffles and sighs as he mooched about the ground floor of the house in his motley coat of hessian and thatch. That morning, Tess kept asking him if he'd be OK – not because he seemed under the weather because his strength and mobility were greatly improved, but because she wanted to leave him at the house while she went on a shopping trip. We're going to Middlesbrough, she kept whispering to Em as if it was on a par with absconding for a spree in Harvey Nichols. But it was not the destination which was the thrill, it was feeling justified to eschew the tabletop sale at the church for a trip away from Saltburn, the opportunity to buy something new, even frivolous for Em; for Tess to afford to be able to dress her child in clothes that were first hand and full price. She'd bought a top and trousers combo for Em from the nearly-new morning at the library the other week, only to be stopped a day or so later by someone telling her how much her own daughter had loved that outfit first time around. More recently, Lisa had passed on a brand new sunhat with a ladybird motif saying Sam was scared of ladybirds, then an unopened pack of socks, saying they were a bit girly for boys.

Lisa had offered to accompany Tess when they met in the playground earlier in the morning but Tess had declined, fumbled for a reason which Lisa had generously fathomed and so told Tess, oops, can't come, forgot my ma-in-law is popping by. The truth was that actually, Tess just wanted to feel that she could make this shopping trip unaided and unassisted.

Not counting the night-time trip to the Transporter Bridge, this was Tess's first trip to Middlesbrough and only her third excursion from Saltburn. She allocated herself enough cash only for transport and perhaps a cup of coffee and a cake – the remainder she'd carefully squirrelled away, having counted and recounted it first. The wherewithal of the trip was Tamsin's vouchers and, though they had arrived just that morning, Tess heaped an imagined urgency upon them as if they had a sell-by date of tomorrow.

Are you sure you'll be OK, Wolf? Want a wee?

Tess laughed to herself that she was probably more excited about the train journey on Em's behalf than her daughter was herself. Marske. Longbeck. Redcar East. Redcar Central. She read out the names of the stations on the way and pointed out anything she thought remotely worthy. Look, the sea. Still the sea. Chimney, Em. Big smelly factory. Lots and lots of rooftops. Children, Em – oh, defacing a fence with a spray can. A dreary industrial landscape; vast pipes running alongside the tracks, factories of corrugated steel ominously windowless. Smoke, steam, belching silently. But over there! The Transporter Bridge! She could just see the top of it – like the upper parts of a rollercoaster with unseen excitement beneath. Moments later, she noticed that the filigree ironwork at the station appeared to be picked out in Transporter Bridge blue.

Middlesbrough. After the domestic scale of the local shops in Saltburn, the stores in the city seemed like countries in their own right. Tess felt oddly intimidated by the size, by the crowds, by the nose-to-tail traffic. She told herself, Christ, girl, you lived in bloody London for a decade – this is Camberwick Green in comparison. But actually, she could no more downplay Middlesbrough than she could talk up London. Before she set foot in the shop, she'd already decided she wouldn't be prolonging her trip with a search for coffee and cake.

Em came away with new, big-girl pyjamas, a set that comprised a pinafore, T-shirt and cardigan, a pair of jeans from the sale rail, two pairs of leggings and two tops that were buy one get one free. Tess hadn't seen the sign saying
All Childrenswear – 25%
. It happened to be the last day of the offer and when the sales assistant handed Tess further vouchers as change, Tess thanked him as if he'd blessed her personally. She went round the department again and spent the remaining vouchers more frivolously, on a book called
My Mum
and a soft plush snake, so floppity Em could practically wear it as a scarf. It was lurid pink and yellow but being able to buy it gave Tess such pleasure that she found herself stroking it as she queued to pay. Silly Mummy, she giggled to Em, silly old Mummy. Em, though, was soundly asleep in the buggy.

Tess felt quite high, but stronger than the urge to browse for longer, was the pull to take the train back so she could unpack the purchases and revel in owning them. Then she'd phone Tamsin to thank her profusely – no, better still, she'd write her a card. The little gallery on Milton Street near the station had some lovely cards – if Em was still sleeping when they arrived back, she'd buy one before going home. Tess settled into the train and watched the city peter out. She knew she was absorbing the details with a mother's eye again – she almost bounced on her seat when she saw the llamas near Redcar – but Em still slept and the journey passed in silence. It was difficult to sense the sea with houses so close to the track that their interiors were visible and industrial works appearing to stop the spread of countryside. At Marske, a shard of sea became visible over the proliferation of bungalow roofs. Finally, the relief of countryside stretching flat to the sea cliffs. Soon, the gentle dichotomies of Saltburn: the busy allotments against the open land, the caravan park against the Victorian turrets near the coast.

The sea quite took Tess aback – she had no inkling until she saw it again how much she took it for granted, how she had grown used to it being there. That great mass, whose colour changed from grey to green to platinum to black, always providing light and a big sky and a breeze of varying strength which could stiffen her clothes or mist through her hair or lightly dust her skin with salt or even threaten to push her right over. Seeing the sea again, Tess thought about the sensation of the city encircling her and she knew that it was nothing to do with the traffic or the rush and scamper of the busy streets, it had instead everything to do with the lack of sea.

I'm daft, she thought.

If Tamsin could see me now – grinning at the North Sea.

But Tess had an answer up her sleeve for Tamsin.

I'm soothed by the sight of the sea, Tamsin, because it means I'm nearly home.

She bought a card from the gallery – a set of four photographs showing the Halfpenny Bridge in the various stages of collapse. Tess imagined Joe there as a ten-year-old and she felt a pang of longing that decided her to phone him before she rang Lisa just as soon as she was home. Leaving the gallery, she saw Laura ahead of her, approaching arm in arm with an elderly lady as if they were the best of friends. Momentarily, Tess was disappointed that it wasn't Mary. She waved and called to Laura who waved and said something to her charge. They could not increase their pace and Tess felt it would be overtly rude to increase her own so they made a slow, smiling passage towards each other.

‘Hullo.’

‘Hullo, Tess. Mrs Tiley, this is Tess. Tess, this is Mrs Tiley.’

‘Pleased to meet you.’

‘And you, dear.’

‘And that there is Emmeline, fast asleep.’

‘We've been out shopping, Laura. M&S in Middlesbrough.’

‘Good for you.’

‘The sales are on.’

‘I don't want to know! Thanks for last night, Tess – it was good, it was a laugh. A nice bunch – and I love your stuff. I used the All Over You cream after my shower this morning. Mrs Tiley – Tess here is ever so clever. She makes her own creams – you know, for hands and the body. But she also does beauty – you know, manicures and the like.’

‘Do you, dear?’

‘Well, more then than now, really.’

‘Look at the state of mine. The days before dishwashers, you see. Mind you, though we worked our hands we did try our best by them. We used – oh, what was it called? We'd rub each other's hands and do each other's nails. What was it called?’

‘Mrs T – we'd best be making tracks now.’

‘Nice to meet you, dear.’

‘And you.’

‘See you soon, Tess – give Em a kiss from me when she wakes up.’

‘See you soon, Laura. I'm glad you enjoyed last night.’

‘It was a laugh. You should do another soon.’

‘Palmers Cocoa Butter,’ said Mrs Tiley.

‘Ah,’ said Tess, ‘Palmers. You can't beat it.’

Tess let the pair pass before she headed for home, going via the Everything Shop and putting a few essentials onto Joe's tab as he'd insisted she must. She picked up the pace to make light of the hill. But then she slowed down and soon enough stopped altogether. It wasn't the gradient. She was tired from the excursion and the excitement – but not that tired. What was it that was perplexing her so? It took a while to pinpoint it. It was Mrs Tiley. It was her hands. It was the notion that, in her youth her hands were fair, that the domestic drudge of hands that do dishes had ravaged them. It was the image of Mrs Tiley and her friends as younger women, rubbing in cocoa butter and doing each other's nails. Most likely sharing a gossip and a giggle. It was the knowledge that those flaky nails and papery skin had had no attention for years. Tess turned and retraced her steps, muttering under her breath, you'll be OK for another half-hour or so, won't you, Wolf.

‘Laura? Someone to see you. It's that lass who came up here once or twice – with the little 'un. I'll see to Mrs Lee.’

Laura smoothed Mrs Lee's hair the way she liked because she knew it would not cross Di's mind to do so. Then she left the sunroom and walked briskly to the front door. There stood Tess and wide-awake Em who was wrestling with the harness of the buggy like Houdini in a tizz.

‘Hullo again. Well, good afternoon, Em.’

‘Look, Laura – this might sound a bit far-fetched but I was thinking. I mean, I know last night was fun – but I have a few more pots and tubs and there's not enough for another evening. And even if there was. Well – even if there was. The thing is, I was thinking – after meeting your Mrs Tiley – I'd like to do something. I'd like to do
something
. I wanted to ask you if you thought they – your residents – might like me to pop in one day and do manicures? Pedicures?’

Laura regarded Tess whose words were spilling like an ice cream float when the vanilla has just been added. Effervescing. A bubbling over of sweetness.

‘I could be a volunteer,’ Tess said. ‘I want to do
something
. Something I'm proud of.’

‘Tess—’

‘I mean, I am properly qualified.’

‘I'd have to put it by the boss, of course.’

The bright mood across Tess's face faltered. ‘Would they need references?’

Laura looked confused. ‘But you
are
qualified?’

‘I am.’ Tess was reticent. ‘I am. Of course. It's just – and I know the salon would give me a glowing report – but it's just I don't want them to know I'm
here
.’

Laura looked unsettled. ‘You in some kind of trouble, pet? Is that why you suddenly appeared here?’

‘Not trouble as in bad stuff, Laura – I promise you. I just –’ Em was jabbering and Laura was obviously all ears and just then, Tess did not want to compromise a lovely day, or diminish the energy her idea had given her. ‘It's nothing. It's fine. They can phone for references. Nothing happened at work – they were always pleased with me. It was other stuff that was crap.’